When Heaven Fell
by Hearts of Eternity
Summary: A short spin-off from What Time We Have Left; this focuses on what happened after Punch left Flamewar behind, from Flamewar's defection from the Decepticons to her attack on Kaon base for revenge. See what happened when Flamewar tore her heaven down
1. Chapter 1

I guess you can consider this a spin-off from _What Time We Have Left_ and _As We Come Together_, set around the events unfolding near the end of _What Time We Have Left. _This is a peek into the events that transpired after Punch/Counterpunch left Flamewar behind, and her subsequent defection to Virus. _When Heaven Fell_ is not a necessary read to follow the events of _As We Come Together,_ but it does offer a better understanding of Flamewar's character and her reasons behind the things she does.

That being said, this is only going to be a short interlude- three chapters long at the max. I hope you all enjoy it! Please, review me with your thoughts!

_Scrapions- _The Decepticon version of Junkions.

**When Heaven Fell  
****Chapter 1  
**"_We are our own devils; we drive ourselves out of our Edens."- _Goethe

"_**I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS, STARSCREAM! I'LL KILL YOU!" **_

"_Kill you!_

"_-kill you...!_

"…_kill you…" _

In the vestiges of dead echoes, promises of a threat that may never be followed through, two Decepticon femmes were left in the cold emptiness of the Alaksmi's wake. Flamewar kept her pulse blaster in her arms, cocked and charged, her optics locked onto the aft of her ship. It was nothing more now than a guttering speck in the sky. This was insult! She was the Femme Commander of the Decepticons; a deadly warrior in her own right! She had not suffered through the pit of the gladiatorial rings and served loyally under Megatron for all these vorns to be tossed aside like some sorry piece of slag!!

Rage as hot as the flames of the pit roiled within her. If she ever got her hands on Starscream, _she'd kill him._ This was that fragger's fault. No way would Counterpunch have the struts to dare leave her behind; she'd bet her blaster that Screamer had something to do with this as a final way to drive a knife into her spark, as if taking Barricade wasn't enough.

Blazing red optics turned to the frozen beast beside her, but Virus made no move to establish further optic contact. The beast was utterly frozen, caught on her hind legs with her mouth still gaping in a roar. Something in the detritus shifted, shaking her from the spell; with a harsh growl, Virus crashed back down on all fours, her narrowed gaze swinging to affix to Flamewar. As a precaution, the femme raised her weapon, ready to blast her ex-subordinate's faceplate off if she attacked.

"Starscream will pay for this," the beast snarled.

Flamewar snorted, glaring. "My sentiments exactly."

Virus made a noise that might have been a grating laugh, regarding Flamewar with a guarded look. "Have fun getting back to Kaon," she said darkly. "Give those fraggers my regards; let them know it'll only be a matter of time before I repay them for this." She began to shuffle away through the rusted ruins, not bothering to spare the other femme a second glance.

A flame of stubbornness arose in Flamewar's spark, causing her optics to flash dangerously in the darkness. _Go back to Kaon?_ The thought made her want to purge her tanks. Kaon was a place that no longer wanted her, and she wasn't inclined to go crawling back to them, nor was she about to go off begging for another base to take her. She had her pride, and it was a pit of a lot more important than anything else. If Starscream thought she was _expendable_, then she'd make herself _indispensible_ to another. She would bring pit to the place she once called a haven…

"_Virus, wait." _

The beast paused, optics glinting as she glanced Flamewar's way. "What do you want?"

She took a step, one that was stubborn, bold, not at all tentative or uncertain. "I want revenge."

"Don't we all?"

"I want revenge on Starscream for doing this to me."

The sneer that crossed Virus's face was pure poison. "Get in line, femme. I'm taking the first bite out of him." Her fangs seemed especially sharp in the gloom.

Flamewar's fingers trembled over the trigger of her pulse blaster. How she longed to simply throw aside her weapon and attack her ex-subordinate; didn't she know how much asking for this was costing her pride? "Dammit, Virus, all I want is for Starscream to pay-!"

Virus snorted, turning to rear over Flamewar, looking down on her with glinting optics. "And what do you want me to do about it?" she drawled, her towering stature making Flamewar seem almost trivial. "I have my own problems to deal with."

"But you can be bought, can't you?" Flamewar hissed venomously. "I'll pay for your services if it means revenge."

Virus fell back to the ground, heaving a growl through her vents. "You have nothing now, remember? You've been abandoned. Revenge on Starscream should be the least of your worries."

"Revenge is _all_ I have now," Flamewar replied. "If I can't have that, then I really do have nothing."

Virus watched her ex-commander for a long time, studying her rigid frame and blazing optics. They had known each other for a long time, both existing in the same gladiatorial circuit, Flamewar functioning as _Flamestrike_, one of the top femme fighters of the Kaon ring, and Virus as _Moonfly_, an assistant medic to Bludgeon.

Before Megatron, they had operated within the same social gutter, knowing each other peripherally, interacting briefly. They had known each other as equals before they were Commander and officer. They were equal once again; defected, rankless, _alone_. It was like being thrown back to before the war when they were simple outcasts, like seeing an old friend in a new light.

"Without Megatron here, the Decepticons have _nothing_," Virus finally said, her rough voice flat. "They just don't realize it."

"We can make them realize it."

"What's this "we" slag? You still haven't bought my services yet, femme. Remember?"

"I'll bargain," Flamewar growled. "I'm willing to do anything."

Virus paused, tipping her head in consideration. Having Flamewar at her disposal _would _be good for business while Trojan and Worm were out of commission. _"Anything?" _

The femme flinched. "Yes. Anything."

Virus laughed, though it sounded more like a bark. "Very well. Come with me and I think we can work out some sort of _arrangement_." She turned her broad back to her ex-Commander once more, uncaring of the pulse blaster that remained concentrated on her. When she was almost completely consumed by the shadows and detritus, stubborn feet tromped after her. It had taken a moment, but Flamewar was following.

"Is your ship close?" the femme enquired, scanning the area for any sign of a ship, large or small.

"Closer than you think," the quadruped huffed. She remotely accessed the ship's systems, powering up the old heap of junk. The area vibrated ominously as the hidden ship activated. Flamewar took a step back, still searching for the invisible entity. Her sharp optics then caught a brief flash of a hull's array lighting, dull and yellowed, dim with ancient age, accompanied by lacklustre hull plating.

It was then that Flamewar realized the heap of junk laid out before her was not a heap of junk at all, but a ship. A very old, dilapidated ship.

"_Quaint." _The femme growled flatly.

"If you have a problem with it, you don't have to get on," Virus pointed out, shuffling her way towards the hatch that was now unmasking itself from the indistinguishable hull.

Flamewar grimaced, perhaps feeling more ashamed of boarding such a deadbeat craft than she was of siding with her defected ex-subordinate. Was she really prepared to walk away from all she knew, demote herself to the half-life of mercenary simpering from job to job as the universe's bitch? Did her thirst for revenge truly run that deep?

Virus paused at the top of the boarding ramp. "It's your choice whether or not you come with me," she growled. "Just remember, you have nothing as a Decepticon without Megatron, and even the things you _thought_ you had are now gone thanks to Starscream."

A hot, electric thrill ran through her energon lines. Virus was right; everything Flamewar thought she had; something to fight for, a place to belong, someone to love- _Starscream took it all from her_.

"There is no need to remind me," Flamewar growled, marching up to the patchwork ship with her olfactory sensor in the air. She made her choice: Her thirst for revenge really did run that deep.

Inside the ship was just as old and rancid as its exterior, rusted and falling apart. The plating rattled as the thrusters engaged and there was a constant hollow hissing coming from a cracked vent somewhere. Seams ran along the walls were rusted panels had been replaced with only moderately-rusted panels, wiring hanging in some places, lights dim or non-existent through long stretches of stale corridors. It was a lonely, empty, dead ship.

In the bridge, there were no seats- all of them had been ripped out long ago. Flamewar stood stubbornly against the wall, watching as Virus sat back on her haunches and manipulated the controls with her long, blunt claws- they were surprisingly dextrous for such indelicate killing tools.

"Where in the pit did you get a ship like this?" Flamewar enquired, wishing to break the oppressive silence that had descended between her and the other bot.

"The Scrapions," Virus replied without looking away from the helm.

"Who?"

"Decepticon sympathizers," she elaborated. "They don't have much, but they allow Trojan, Worm and I to conduct our operations from within their camp. This was the only functional ship they had."

"I see…" _This_ was their only functional ship? How pathetic.

"They call it the _Darksyde_," Virus continued.

"Interesting designation."

"It serves its purposes," Virus replied. At last, the beast glanced over to the shadows in which Flamewar enveloped herself in, offering a smile that was twisted by the nature of her own faceplate. "By the way, welcome to the _Darksyde_."

Flamewar bared a ghost of a smile, optics roaming over the scrapheap she was flying in; she left the Decepticons for this? "Dark side, indeed."

…………………………………………………………………………………………….


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, well, here's the second chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! My sincerest thanks go out to **Lady Tecuma, Violetlight, theshadowcat**, and **Litahatchee** (thanks Lita for the two reviews- the first was heart warming, the second was funny xD). Since this is just an obscure little side fic to my initial "We" continuality, the reviews that I do get for this are both precious and heart touching. Thank you so much all four of you, you are truly the greatest!

And thank you **Violetlight** for taking a look at this and pointing out a few errors here and there and pointing out a few aspects of the story that I needed to elaborate in order for it to be more understandable. Truly, you are one of the greatest beta-readers out there!

_Flattop & Roughstuff_- They're actual Decepticons listed on Wikipedia as Micromaster Transports. I just needed two names and they're the ones I landed on.

_Gender- _If anyone wishes for more information on gender and its dynamics within my continuality, I have posted a little rant-like thing on my bio page that hopefully explains some it. Everyone is welcome to go take a peek.

**When Heaven Fell  
****Chapter 2  
**"_Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n"- _John Milton

Defying all manner of natural law and order in the universe, the _Darksyde_ stayed in the air the entire way to their destination. There was a little trouble with the starboard engines when trying to climb over the spire of a ruined building, but other than that, little excitement was to be held.

The conversation between the mercenary and the warrior remained dry at best, nonexistent at worst. Although, upon reaching the halfway point between the designated drop off place and the Scrapion camp Virus and her crew stayed, Flamewar deigned it fair to offer her assistance in helping to maintain the dilapidated _Darksyde_ in flight. By the end of the arduous flight back to camp, the poor ship was puffing its death cry, the metal of its belly screaming against the hard, cold ground as they came in for a landing without landing struts to hold them.

"What a piece of slag," Flamewar sighed as she shoved away from the console she tended to.

"At least we made it," Virus replied, making her way for the topside hatch since they had landed too deep in a trash heap to get out through the ventral exit.

Unsurprisingly, the camp that they had set down in was in as grave condition as the rest of the planet; nothing but ruins. The bots that came forward into the stark, grey predawn light were just as sorry and wasted. They were weary, exhausted and run dry from war and energon shortages, their optics dim and their faceplates dull and grim.

"Welcome back, Virus," greeted a pockmarked mech, slow moving and croaky of voice.

"I wish I could say it's a pleasure to be back, but it never is," the quadruped replied, sliding her way awkwardly down the hull a short ways to land on the wing, jumping the rest of the way.

"Ah, yes…" The old mech's optics drifted to the sad camp assembled around him. "There is not a lot to be joyful about around here." His gaze moved back to Virus, and then shifted passed her to focus on the hesitant femme remaining perched on the topside hatch, watching them. "But it seems you may have brought us a new light into this dank hole of ours. Who is your companion?"

Flamewar straightened, aware of the many optics focused on her. Her expression turned fierce to convey that she should not be taken lightly by any means. "My designation is Flamewar, Commander of the Decepticon Femme Division." She slid down the hull to meet Virus on the littered ground.

"_Ex_-Commander," Virus reminded darkly.

"No matter the rank, we welcome any Decepticon to this camp," the old mech greeted warmly, arms open. "Your cause is our cause."

"Thank you." Flamewar jerked in an awkward bow.

"Pleasantries aside, how have Trojan and Worm been, Debris?" Virus pressed, pushing her way through the small crowd towards one of the makeshift shelters. Debris shuffled to catch up, as did Flamewar.

"Their conditions are still tenuous," the mech informed gravely. "The parts we were able to salvage from Devcon's frame have proven adequate in repairing them, but they are still in desperate need of an energon transfusion." He looked to Virus hopefully. "Please tell me you have the energon."

Virus's head dropped, shaking slowly.

"Starscream double crossed us," Flamewar explained solemnly.

Debris regarded the femme for a short moment. "I can't say I didn't see it coming. Starscream isn't the most trust worthy 'Con there ever was."

"Can't say I'm very fond of him at the moment, either," Flamewar replied wryly.

Virus snorted harshly, pushing passed the attending bots in the medical shelter. It was a stark place, dim but mostly sterile. In the back were two hulking mechs laid out on berths, hooked up to salvaged monitoring equipment. As deftly as she would have as an assistant to Bludgeon, Virus checked her team mates' vitals and assessed their frames, adjusting and readjusting where she saw fit. When she was finished with each frame, she pressed her blunt forehead to each of theirs.

"No changes, I assume?" Debris enquired lightly.

"None," Virus sighed. Her head bowed once more, but this time she twisted a few times, regurgitating what she had stored in her internal compartment. Shambling over to Debris, she deposited two glowing cubes of energon into his awaiting hands. "That's all I was able to get. Dilute and de-energize it as much as you can before you give it to them."

"I will see that it is done immediately." The old mech turn to leave, but paused. "If you like, I could arrange for a raid party to be assembled? I'm sure the Junkions would be more than happy to surrender a couple cubes of energon to us."

Virus growled. "I will not ask that of your Scrapions, Debris. You have been kind enough to allow me and my ilk shelter here, anything more will be impossible to repay."

Debris huffed an old, crackling laugh. "You are far too caught up in business, Virus," he chastised lightly. "You have offered us much through your protection and shares in your bounties. To do you one kindness would be our pleasure. Allow me to gather the best Scrapions I can find and I will see to it that Trojan and Worm will have energon by the orn's end."

The quadruped glanced back to her two prostrate mechs, allowing a tired sigh to pass through her vents. "Make the arrangements, then." Debris bowed and left.

Flamewar wandered further into the medical shack, taking a closer look at the ramshackle surgery work done to Trojan and Worm. It was the familiar work of a bot who had earned her medical knowledge through repairs done in an illegal fight circuit. It was rough, nothing compared to what the Constructicons could do when they had the desire to, but it was easy to see that care had been taken to ensure Trojan and Worm would survive.

"I see being a mercenary all these vorns hasn't erased your medical programming," Flamewar said lightly.

Virus shrugged. "I know how to save bots just as easily as I know how to kill them."

"I bet." She traced along a welding seam in Worm's wing where dull black armour met the royal-blue of Devcon's 'donated' armour.

"Leave them to rest," Virus sighed. "We have a lot to talk about and I would prefer to do it elsewhere." She ambled out of the shack to a makeshift shelter behind it that had been erected for her and her team. Shoving the propped up door out of the way, she meandered inside, allowing Flamewar to find her own way in.

Wary to touch anything that laid in the cesspool, Flamewar drew her arms up to her chassis, wandering to the middle of the wide, low-ceilinged room. Three berths lay shoved against the back wall, hidden beneath mounds of scraped armor, spare parts, data pads and empty cubes. Weapons lay scattered on the floor. The empty frame of a gutted mech, long since dead, was crumpled in the corner, half hidden by shadows. Things were scattered, uncared for and rusting desolately.

The only surface of the entire room that looked relatively cared for was the miniature lab along the left side where Virus created and tended to her precious viruses.

"You certainly know how to give a place your special touch," Flamewar commented dryly.

"You think?" Virus rumbled, using one of her clawed front appendages to sweep all the garbage off one of the berths. "That one will be yours for now, until Trojan and Worm can be moved. After that, you're on the floor."

Bemused by the dry sense of hospitality, Flamewar carefully stepped over to the berth and sat, keeping all her appendages drawn to herself so as to touch as little surface as possible. Who knew what she could pick up in a place like this?

Virus didn't even bother clearing her own berth, simply crawling on top of the accumulated mess and settling herself amongst the filth. Her optics blazed like beacons in the dim room, staring unblinkingly at the 'Com femme, studying her as if she were a strange creature. How long had it been since they had been one-on-one like this? Vorns? Certainly before Virus had reformatted from a femme frame to the monstrosity she inhabited now, thus expelling her from the defunct Femme Division. It was strange and yet familiar to be on such terms again.

Irked by the silent staring, Flamewar huffed a little and glared back. "See something interesting?" she growled challengingly.

"Perhaps," Virus replied pensively.

"Care to share what you think is so interesting, then?" Flamewar asked sharply.

"I could never understand why you decided to remain in that frame after Megatron issued that decree to purge the ranks of femmes," Virus rumbled quietly. "I could never understand why any femme would want to remain in a frame that Lord Megatron so wholly despised."

Startled by the sudden deviation, Flamewar took an astrosecond to process the statement, and then another to understand it fully. As soon as comprehension hit, a look of condescending pity crossed the femme's faceplate.

"Your worship of him makes you blind, Virus," she replied flatly.

Quirking an optic ridge challengingly, Virus regarded her ex-Commander with a testing expression. "Oh?"

"It was not the femme _frame_ that Megatron wished to purge, it was the idea of female _gender_ that he wished to do away with. It is an organic construct that is unnatural to our species," she spoke with much distain, letting her despise for organics leak into her voice. Flamewar's despise for all things organic went above and beyond anyone else's in the 'Con ranks. "How long ago was that directive even issued? I can't even remember when there hasn't been stigma about this in the ranks."

"A long while ago," Virus replied. They both knew that neither of them would be able to find the exact date catalogued in their memory banks. War did that to bots, riddled their memories full of bullet holes and drenched it in energon until it was hard to make out anything from the past. Everything either faded or was corrupted eventually. It was the sort of amnesia that allowed some bots to keep living, even after all they had seen.

"It was near the beginning, wasn't it? After Megatron and the Decepticons went public?" Flamewar queried, racking her memory banks for the eluding memory. "It was a good dozen vorns after we joined though; I know that much, since I had you under my command for a while before you reformatted."

"Yes, it was at least a couple dozen vorns after you became Femme Commander," Virus conceded.

"Frag, we've been fighting this war for a long time," Flamewar sighed offhandedly. "I would have thought we'd of won by now."

"We will win," Virus assured with the same conviction that she held in her belief of Megatron. "One orn, Lord Megatron will return with the Allspark and our victory will be secured. He has never led us astray before."

"Of course," Flamewar nodded. "Not even with the femme purging; he was only trying to strengthen us by doing away with the weak that fell for the idea of being in a specific frame made you _female._ He did the same for the those who thought they were male too, remember? Those two transport operators Flattop and Roughstuff- Megatron made them examples." She smiled darkly as she brought up the memory, laughing lightly. "After that, every other mech was a pit of a lot smarter than to overtly proclaim gender. Can't say the same for femmes."

Virus nodded after a fashion. "Lord Megatron was always striving to make us better, _stronger_," she said quietly. Despite the fact that she had been blind to her High Lord Protector's true intentions and ditched her own frame for the walking monstrosity she now inhabited, Megatron did indeed succeed in forcing her and many others who were as short-sighted as her into larger, more powerful mech and quadruped frames- thus, indirectly, making the Decepticons stronger.

"And he did a good job of it, too," Flamewar snorted. "If only it didn't cost me my title and two-thirds of my division." She didn't even bother to mention how much it fragged her off to think that her remaining ranks, not to mention a majority of the mech ranks, had so easily fallen back into their gendered roles the moment Megatron had left them.

"The prices we pay to serve Lord Megatron tend to be steep," Virus shrugged. Her own steep price paid had been her lover, killed in an Autobot raid on the gladiatorial ring, and then the sacrifice her own bipedal frame after that.

Deciding the conversation had gone on long enough, Flamewar carefully steered the conversation into the waters of their yet-to-be-determined deal. "How steep will my price be to render your services and exact my revenge?"

Virus considered the question, a low, rumbling growl vibrating her frame lightly. "You realize, don't you, that it may be a while before either of us encounter Starscream again?" she asked. "Wasn't he planning on launching a ship for the Allspark and Lord Megatron?"

Flamewar's optics narrowed. "That was classified information."

"Swindle is easy to buy," Virus shrugged, and then pressed on with her pervious question. "What will you do if we can't have Starscream?"

"He'll pay eventually," Flamewar growled, optics flashing. "Until then, I'll have Kaon's energon on my hands. I know you want Kaon too, or else was your promise to infect every mech in Kaon if you were double crossed just a load of hot air?"

"I meant what I said," Virus scowled.

"Good, then we'll make Kaon our target for now," Flamewar reasoned. "I just want someone to pay for this _insult_."

"Understandable." The quadruped shrugged.

"So what will my price be?"

"That depends," Virus replied. "How badly do you want it?"

Flamewar scowled, glaring heatedly. "So much so, that I can _taste_ it."

"Willing enough to become the universe's bitch?" Virus asked lightly.

"Become a mercenary, like you?"

"Why not? Once you attack Kaon, there's no going back. I doubt any other Decepticon base would be daring enough to take you, and you're not stupid enough to go crawling to the Autobots for sanctuary," Virus reasoned, all business. "What better way to pay off a debt to me than by working it off as my… _partner_? I know your skills in battle, I've seen them first hand; you would undoubtedly be an asset to me, especially while Trojan and Worm are indisposed at the moment."

Flamewar contemplated the offer carefully. It was unusually generous. There had to be a catch… "What is the term of my service?"

"Seven vorns."

"That's slavery!"

"That's business."

Flamewar slid from the berth she perched on, bristling angrily before a peon she had once commanded- one who dared to demand such a steep price! However, before she could spit anything out, the armored beast slid from her own berth, a venomous smirk forming around her fangs.

"If you don't like the terms, go somewhere else," she hissed, knowing full well that the femme's options were limited.

Still, Flamewar remained unbending, stubborn rage rolling off her in waves. "Go rust in the pit."

"Fine, be that way. Apparently you didn't want this as badly as I'd thought."

A sharp flash of fresh rage crossed the femme's optics. "I _do_ want this!"

"Then seven vorns of service in return."

A long, drawn out hiss issued from the femme's vents. She relented fractionally. "Fine. Seven vorns. Not an orn longer."

"I wouldn't dream of asking any more," Virus laughed.

Flamewar continued to roil, gears grinding ever so slightly. "After my term is served, what then?"

"Whatever you want, you'd be free. Try to return to the Decepticons if you want, or roam the stars looking for your lover. You'd even be welcome to stay with me and mine, if you so wished it," Virus offered.

"Unlikely," Flamewar spat.

"Whatever you say." The quadruped pressed her way around the femme to saunter over to her lab, heaving back on her haunches to begin some work. "Why don't you get some recharge for now? You're going to need it if we plan to attack Kaon on our own. We have a lot to prepare for."

"What about you?"

Virus spared a devious glance over her shoulder, viral injectors already deployed from her mouth and hooking up to the open motherboard in the center of the lab equipment.

"Don't worry about me. I'm just putting the finishing touches on some presents for them."


	3. Chapter 3

Super awesome galaxy-sized thank you go out to the three very special reviewers who took the time to review this little indulgence! Thank you to **Silveriss, theshadowcat**, and **Bluebird Soaring**! You three are the most amazing reader/reviewers ever and the time you took to review this fic warm my heart!

Also, special thanks go to **Lady Tecuma** for the spot of editing she did! Thank you **Tecuma**!

_Nightshade & Waspinator- _Nightshade is a character developed by **Violetlight** and belongs exclusively to her; Waspinator is a character that originates from Beast Wars, but has been converted into a symbiote by **Violetlight** to be partnered with Nightshade. I am using Violetlight's version of Waspinator. I did seek permission to use this specific pairing; if anyone else wishes to use them in their stories, please go to **Violet** for permission.

**When Heaven Fell  
****Chapter 3  
**"_The mind can make a heaven out of hell or a hell out of heaven."- John Milton_

Orns passed in a slow ooze of time in which each passing breem was another layer of restlessness settling up Flamewar's shoulders. The Scrapions, despite the dire lives they lived, continued to accommodate her in the same welcoming fashion that they had greeted her with the day she arrived. Energon was scarce, nonexistent at times, but what they had they shared generously. She stayed in Virus's shelter, recharging on Worm's empty berth, and aiding the mercenary as she went about preparing for the two-bot assault they were about to hit Kaon with.

Life, as Flamewar quickly learned, moved at an entirely different pace within the Scrapion camp than it did everywhere else. It was some form of detritus filled oasis in the middle of the war torn landscape of Cybertron. The Scrapions were all for the Decepticon cause, for the betterment of their society through enforcing their superiority over other lesser species. They listened intently whenever Flamewar spoke, and scrambled head-over-heels to fetch whatever she may have needed at the time.

Debris, the old pockmarked leader of the small band, was ever kind and generous as the orns slipped by, continuing to accommodate Flamewar and her growing restlessness with a bottomless well of patience. On the occasion when she would grow bored of accompanying Virus or keeping Scrapions company, the old mech would offer her respite in his old smithy where she would be allowed to work with whatever materials she wished, working for joors on her armoury in undisturbed peace.

Even Virus, she found, was different within the confines of the camp. She was still more or less grotesque, doubtlessly a consequence of looking like a four-legged scrap heap, but her personality softened at the edges. Sometimes a glimmer of the femme she once was shone through; in the way she spoke, in the manner she treated repairs to her fellow mercenaries and Scrapions alike. It appeared a sliver of Moonfly still existed in Virus.

One could get used to the peace the Scrapions offered. Which Flamewar found was the most disturbing fact of all.

On the night before they were supposed to set out, Flamewar found herself in the medical shelter being checked out by a rusty, diminutive Scrapion while Virus saw to Trojan and Worm. The two hulking mechs had finally regained consciousness in a partial capacity, but they were still healing and had yet to be moved. The raid on the Junkions had been successful; there had been enough energon to treat the two, and then feed the rest.

"Yes, that's right. Flamewar and I will be attacking Kaon tomorrow," Virus uttered quietly as she went about her duties checking their vital signs, seeing that their self-repair programs were still in working order.

Trojan's optics moved somewhat to better focus on the shuffling quadruped.

Virus sighed as if the mech had said something. "No, I will not reconsider this, Trojan. Flamewar has contracted me and I will not go back on a contract." There was pause as Worm shifted and Virus nudged him into a more comfortable position on his berth. "Sorry, Worm, but neither Flamewar nor I can wait for you two to back us up. Kaon is still high on the victory and disorganized. If we wait any longer, we'll lose the opportunity."

Worm's hand moved to pat Virus weakly on her broad shoulder. She laughed, shaking her head.

"Thanks for the thought, but I won't need your luck. I never do," she assured, pushing her faceplate against the mech's limp hand. Her optics drifted to Flamewar's watchful gaze for an astrosecond. "And I doubt Flamewar will be in need of any luck, either."

Flamewar gave a non-committal shrug, choosing to pretend she was more interested in the examination she was undergoing rather than the odd one-sided conversation taking place right next to her. The two mechs were Scrapions, though from a different sect near the Simfur/Black Expanse region, and had reformatted to join forces with Virus; their frames, while heavily armored, were still pieced together haphazardly; they were lacking in vocal processors. Curiously, Scrapions and Virus alike treated the pair as if nothing was wrong, carrying on conversations as if nothing was amiss. As it were, Flamewar chose not to inquire about it in case she insulted her guests, and she was reluctant to do so after developing a fondness for Debris and his people.

The small mech examining her, only a small bit larger than herself, smiled weakly and patted her arm. "You appear to be in one hundred percent working order, Flamewar," he said. "All your systems check out, so all I can say is for you to get some recharge tonight and you'll be ready for anything tomorrow."

"Good. Thank you, Riffraff."

Riffraff twittered nervously, bowing low and scurrying out.

Virus turned to watch the mech leave, and then made her way to Flamewar's side. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"Yes." Flamewar replied firmly.

"Nervous?" Virus asked, smirking.

"Not in the least bit."

"I didn't think so."

Flamewar lifted her pulse blaster from the near by examination table, turning it over in her hands and inspecting it herself. "There's a good chance that we won't survive if we do this," she said, a grim smile stretching her mouthplates.

"That's always a possibly when you're a mercenary," Virus shrugged. "We're the bots that do the things the rest of the universe doesn't want to dirty their hands with; if we live, all the better for business. If we die, who's going to miss us?"

"Then let's hope we don't die. I still have someone out there I have to wait for," Flamewar said, slipping her weapon into subspace and then moving to inspect the other pieces of her arsenal.

"As do I," Virus replied. "Have you heard back from your contact in Quel-Caol Outpost?"

"Yes. Harlotease is more than willing to assist us," Flamewar said.

"Good. Than all there is for us tonight is to retire and make sure we're ready for tomorrow."

"Not a problem. But how about you? Up for taking on Kaon?"

Virus laughed darkly as she shuffled her way out into the twilight air. "More than ready," she replied. Between her fangs, her viral injectors glittered ominously.

* * *

Dull grey dawn saw the pair at the very edge of the Decepticon's Kaon base perimeter. Hidden amongst the detritus surrounding them was the _Darksyde_, doing what it did best; looking like a pile of entirely convincing slag.

Scanning the nearby posts, their suspicions were confirmed. Kaon was still riding its battle high. The posts were empty and the grounds were silent. The mechs were probably still inside partying like there wasn't a care in the world, as if another Autobot base wouldn't retaliate for the insult they were dealt, as if two 'Cons weren't standing just outside the gates waiting to take down the entire complex within.

Virus made an impatient noise, swinging her broad head about to survey the base. "It's exactly as I remember," she commented darkly.

"War makes renovations difficult," Flamewar replied.

"At least it makes it easier to attack. I know which vital systems I need to infect and exactly where their access points are."

"Lucky you," Flamewar said flatly, her crimson optics focused ahead. "My targets have a tendency to move."

Virus huffed a rough laugh. "The live ones always do. Shall we?"

Flamewar scanned the area one last time, optics trailing over the place she had called home for a very long time. "It's time." She connected to the Darksyde's antiquated comms system, sending out a hail to the remote Quel-Caol Outpost where her femme contact was stationed.

"_This is Communications Officer Harlotease, at your service," _a femme's velvet voice purred over the channel. _"How may I please you today?" _

"This is Commander Flamewar," Flamewar growled. "I trust you're still prepared to help us?"

A light chuckle rippled through the comms. _"Of course. Anything to get back at the slag-heads who stuck me out here in the middle of nowhere. Say the word and Kaon's security will be down." _

"Soundwave will not be a problem?"

"_Of course he'll be a problem, but I'm willing to take the risk for a little payback,"_ Harlotease replied. _"I'm nowhere near his skill level, so the best I can give you is a few breems of downed security. Is that enough to get you in?" _

Flamewar glanced to Virus, who nodded firmly. "Yes, that will be sufficient."

"_Good, then I'll work my magic. Good Luck. Harlotease out." _

"Flamewar out."

Virus shifted, her claws scraping the ground and tossing plumes of rust-coloured dust. "You know the plan?"

"Yes."

The beast nodded. "I hit the tech, you go after the mechs. Once we're in we're on our own. If we make it out, all the better."

There was a brief, barely detectable flicker in the perimeter sensors; the sign that it was safe to cross into enemy territory. With a final nod exchanged between the two femmes, Flamewar broke into a run while Virus charged into a heavy gallop, both heading straight for the main entrance. The main yard, utterly unguarded aside from the temporarily shut down automatic sensors, was empty, quiet, and quick to cross. Signs of victory celebrations laid about the yard; a scattering of energon cubes- empty of course; torn up ground where possible brawls between over-energized mechs were fought; scorch marks here and there from overly excited mechs letting a few rounds loose.

_Disgusting. _

Flamewar did her best to keep her optics focused ahead on her target and not on the disarray around her. She was appalled that in the orns she'd been away, Kaon had spiralled into this cess pool that rivalled the Scrapions' camp.

They hit the fortress's main entrance unimpeded. In a blur of black armor, Virus released her shoulder mounted cannons, blowing away the fortified paneling that covered the access consol. Snarling viciously, her viral injectors shot out and embedded themselves within the metal and wires.

The doors thrust open for them.

"We're in." Flamewar smirked darkly.

"Let the fun begin."

In the instant that their feet crossed the threshold, a scream went up throughout the base; intruder alarms. Harlotease had finally lost to Soundwave's superiority. The stark entrance hall was not empty, low-ranking 'Cons now standing frozen in their shock as they stared out dazedly at the invaders silhouetted in the dawn light.

With a roar, Flamewar began the attack. Flinging herself forward onto the nearest mech, nothing short of dark euphoria flood through her the instant her sharp hands delved between slates in the screaming mech's armor, wrenching them apart in a glorious gory spray of energon. With his chassis open, she drove her hands back in, reaching for his energon pump. For a spark-stopping moment, she held it cradled in her palm before ripping it out in a hot cascade of glowing fluid.

Others were upon her in the astroseconds that it took for her to complete her first kill. The ones that followed were just as easy, just as deliriously satisfying. Their frames laid in a tangle at her feet and their energon soaked into her dark armor, tinting it a gory shade of blue, giving her a deathly glow under the severe lights.

They were underlings of no real importance or consequence. Under-trained and ill-prepared. They stunk of high-grade. Their movements were slow compared to hers, inexperienced, almost frightened.

She was a Commander, one of the elite, trained in the ways of battle through the gladiatorial rings and honed to perfection through war. She was a force to be reckoned with. Small but powerful. She was invincible.

Every mech she ripped into held Starscream's faceplate. Despite their weak, impassioned pleas that failed to sway her, Flamewar pasted Starscream's pointed faceplate over theirs, hearing his rasping voice beg, pleading for his miserable life. The very thought made her laugh. She was giddy on the kill. She relished in the thought to spilling the Air Commander's energon, revelling in the hot slick feeling of life-sustaining fluids bathing over her.

A decapitated head flung by, claw marks evident along the severed neck column. Darting a glance from where the rolling head had come, the warrior caught sight of a larger stockpile of disassembled frame parts in a spreading pool of energon. A flash of rump was all she caught before Virus disappeared around a sharp corner, heading straight for her main target; the command center.

Smirking, Flamewar clawed out her currently attacking opponent's optics, wallowing in his final cries and she finished him off with a flourishing sweep that severed his head from his frame.

_Weak._

It wasn't enough to satisfy the burning need that churned inside her spark, the consuming desire to have the entirety of the base pay for the insult that Starscream dealt her, for tossing her aside as if she was worthless, for taking away her lover as some form of sick joke. She wanted more. She needed more. And she knew where to get it.

Flamewar's laughter was high and sharp as she raced off towards the recreational/training area of the base. Her feet flew without thought, nimble, quick, making hardly a sound. She could have been blind and still have found her way. And it seemed Primus had finally decided to favour her, as she was gifted with prey upon prey to cut down from her path. They were all the typical Decepticon mech, nearly three times her size, lumbering hulks that barely had control of their own mass. One by one they fell by her hand, and a little more of Flamewar's tortured spark was lifted.

Through the haze of energon soaked air, a rumbling voice shattering the atmosphere.

"_Flamewar! What is the meaning of this?!" _

Skidding to a wild halt amidst the battle-frenzy she was immersed in, Flamewar swung around to face the looming danger that stood palpably threatening behind her.

"_Soundwave." _

He advanced on her by a step, his symbiotes backing him with their weapons trained.

Flamewar focused her bright, wild gaze upon the mech, dripping claws tensed and ready to attack. "You want a piece of me too, huh?" she hissed.

Unwavering, Soundwave continued to advance from his station at the end of the corridor, stepping over felled mechs and sloshing through cooling pools of spilt energon. He was the very presence of a threat, exuding the aura of a contained storm, of silent power waiting to be unleashed.

"_What is the meaning of this?"_ he reiterated. This time his voice was far quieter, more deadly, focused. Silently, he transmitted for Ravage and the others to hang back; Flamewar was out for energon and she'd already taken out bots bigger than them. If it came to it, he would fight her alone. He was a capable fighter with his own "special" talents, giving him a distinct advance in the many forms of combat. If he and Flamewar engaged, it would undoubtedly be an interesting match.

"You're asking me _why_ I'm doing this?" Flamewar asked disbelievingly, bristling furiously.

"Yes." He was firm, unbendingly demanding.

"This was my home, Soundwave!" Flamewar spat. "I was raised in Kaon, my entire life was here!"

"So?"

Horrible emotional agony burned through her spark, the single callous word causing a spasm of hatred and the impulsive need to kill to drive through her. "_So?_ I was just tossed aside by Starscream as if all that meant nothing! As if I was worthless!"

Soundwave tipped his head, his visor masking any and all emotion that might have flitted across his faceplate. "I was not aware that Starscream issued any such order. Are you sure it was he that ordered your dismissal?"

"Who else could it have been?!" Flamewar snapped back, springing into a battle ready stance as another mech came barrelling out a door, attempting to intercept her path. Soundwave watched impassively as the femme indulged in the brief scuffle, slipping between the mech's legs and launching herself upon his back, bludgeoning open the back of his head and gouging out his processor. The move cost her dearly though, leaving her open to be rammed into the open wall, shards of the torn metal plating embedding themselves in her already ravaged back.

Disentangling herself from the fallen body, stumbling with slight difficulty away from the slaughter, Flamewar fixed Soundwave with a hard look. "You don't honestly believe that little creature _Counterpunch_ is capable of showing that much initiative, do you?"

Cross-referencing the designation Counterpunch against Kaon's roster and stats records, the mech described was nearly laughable. "Point taken."

"Then go after Screamer if ya want yer damn revenge! Kaon's got nothin' ta do with it!" Rumble growled.

Flamewar's optics flashed. Soundwave moved to shield his mouthy Creation, Ravage moving smartly to grasp hold of Rumble's back plating and drag him out of the line of fire.

"If you haven't noticed, you half-bit puppet wannabe, Starscream's not here," she hissed, "but Kaon is, filled to the brim with every damn mech dumb enough to follow that fragger."

Ravage eyed the hall strewn with the frames of fallen comrades. "You have a ways to go if you intend to kill us all," he said, his deep voice reverberating eerily through the now silent hall. At some point, the alarms had stopped screaming. "This is not even a fraction of the number of mechs on base."

"Never said I wasn't up for a challenge," Flamewar growled back.

Soundwave continued to stare, trying to assess the unstable mindset of the femme. By her stance, by her tone of voice, by the very feel of the erratic waves of nauseating hysteria rolling off her, he knew Flamewar had no intention of leaving this base alive. He understood the feeling. He knew the rage that churned inside her as a reflection of his own when Frenzy had been taken from him. He knew all too well that it would do her no good.

"What about Barricade?" the stoic mech asked suddenly.

Flamewar frozen, processing the name that slipped from Soundwave's vocal processor. _"Barricade?"_ she whispered reverently. It felt as if she had forgotten him in all the fury of battle.

"You intend to make this place your grave, but what of Barricade, Flamewar?"

"What of him?" she asked harshly, now distrusting every sound that fell from Soundwave's vocals.

"You and he were this base's worst kept secret. It was no mystery that you held… _interest_ in each other. Should you die, what do you leave him?"

Struck by the question, Flamewar was saved issuing a response by a sudden clatter of noise behind her. Surprised that someone had gotten so close, the femme spun, only to be met by Nightshade, Soundwave's apprentice. She was a young femme, nearly out of her apprenticeship with her master, and far more formidable than she looked. Armed with a needle-pointed rapier driing stright for Flamewar's spark, there was no question about whether or not Nightshade meant business.

Laughing, Flamewar leapt forward, taking the other femme by surprise. The blade wavered, enough to give Flamewar room to manoeuvre in. With a deft hand, she grasped the attacking arm and twisted it hard into the wall, knocking the thin blade out of Nightshade's hand. Young as she might be, Nightshade was not about to be taken out, even though her master had expressly forbidden her to try to engage her old Commander on her own. She fought back viciously, employing vorns of old battle training and sparring with Frenzy and the symbiotes. Anything within arms reach became a weapon in her hands.

"I see you've improved in hand-to-hand combat since you were last under my command," Flamewar hissed, grappling with her ex-underling.

"Master Soundwave is a good teacher at more than just communications," Nightshade growled back, throwing her weight against the larger femme.

Flamewar grunted, stifling a laugh. Nightshade may have been blossoming into a sufficient fighter, but she wasn't advanced enough in the ways of war to best her yet. With a well timed twist of her arms, Flamewar wrenched free from the grappling match, taking the other femme by an arm and swinging her around.

"What are you-?!" the demand was cut off as sharp fingers took hold of Nightshade's neck column tightly, Flamewar forcing the both of them to spin, facing Soundwave once more. The frenzied Femme Commander hissed at the symbiotes as they attempted to launch themselves in Nightshade's defence.

"Don't even think about it," she warned, her grip on the femme's neck tightening. Her hot red gaze slid to Soundwave. "That includes _you_." Being that Nightshade was a femme, she'd been under Flamewar's command before the dispersal of the femme ranks, and, knowing that, Flamewar also knew her ex-subordinate's peculiar attachment to her master's symbiotes, and they to her. Not to mention Soundwave's particular attachment to her. Something the warrior could use to her advantage.

"Release her." Soundwave commanded.

"Not yet," Flamewar growled. With her free hand, she plucked the femme's buzzing scrap of a symbiote from the air and tossed it aside. Waspinator bumbled along the hall until he finally went down in a heap, buzzing morosely.

"Do not harm her." The Communications Officer was fuming in silent fury.

"I won't." Soundwave had reminded her of her one reason to stay alive, there was no way she'd do away with her one bargaining chip that would allow her safe passage out. "You're going to let me out of here without a scratch and no harm will come to the femme."

Nightshade struggled, frame working to free herself from Flamewar's unrelenting grip. "Don't do it! She's killed nearly three-dozen mechs! She's insane and needs to be executed!"

Soundwave and his Creations were reluctant to respond.

"Oh, for the love of Primus! Just shoot her and get it over with! I don't care what happens to me-!" Again, Nightshade was cut off as pressure increased over her vocal processor. Soundwave's visor flashed, the gathered symbiotes practically bristling out of their own armor to jump the crazed femme that held their "sister" captive.

Flamewar traced a claw along the strange, collar-like structure on her hostage, scratching a long silver gouge into the paint. "Oh, Soundwave, what will you do when it is more than just your precious pets that are being threatened?" she asked nearly wistfully. "What will happen when the Decepticons forget how useful you are and they toss you aside in the scrap heap? What fate will befall you then?"

Soundwave had a hand out for Nightshade, silently commanding her to be handed over. "That is none of your concern. I intend to never let that happen. If you would release Nightshade, your safe passage will be secured. I will lock down all wings other than your escape route."

Flamewar continued on as if she had not heard, leaching enjoyment from the torture. "I never thought it would happen to me either, you know, but it did, and it will happen to you whether you intend it or not. The Decepticons are nothing now…" She sighed poisonously as she mirrored Virus's own words. She stared around at her once-haven, her castle she once reigned in as a commander. It brought nothing but distain to her now. "I'd leave before something… _bad_ happens to you," Flamewar warned, her claw niggling between Nightshade's armor to play with the wiring beneath.

"Leave, Flamewar, before my patience is spent with you," Soundwave growled.

A roar reverberated through the halls, the sounds of battle drawing near. The lights overhead suddenly blared bright, and then, one by one, exploded in a fantastic shower of sharp shards. It continued down the hall, followed by several consoles blowing out of the walls.

Virus's infection had taken hold.

Flamewar slanted Soundwave a hard look. "Yes, I do think it is time to leave." She grasped tight to Nightshade and drew her close, close enough to touch foreheads and send the mech watching an acidic glance.

"Just remember, not all precious things are cherished by Decepticons," she warned, throwing the struggling femme into her master's arms.

The corridor was plunged into utter darkness, but her proximal sensors were still working at full capacity. She launched herself through the halls, ignoring the searing pain of her entire frame screaming for rest. The sounds of ferocious battle drew her into a hall still partially lit by unaffected lights, although the viral wave was nearing if the wavering of their intensity was any indication.

Virus was locked in a grappling contest with Motormaster, his hands grasping wildly to fend off the beast's madly snapping jaw.

Flamewar shot by. "I have a way out," she shouted as she ran.

"You're still alive?" Virus grunted, even as Motormaster twisted his grip and dislocated her lower jaw. It hung on by the wires, flapping uselessly.

"It would seem so, but not for long," Flamewar barked, un-subspacing her pulse blaster and laying into Motormaster with a barrage of energy blasts. He went down with a furious roar.

Nodding her agreement, Virus set off at a wild gallop behind Flamewar's sure-footed run. True to Soundwave's word, a garbled warning of an initiated lock down echoed through the roaring halls. The paths they took miraculously remained clear.

Into the crumbled entrance hall and through the place where their slaughter first began, they flew out the doors. Beyond the walls of the base, the mechs had gathered and seemed to be under the impression that this was all just a fight for the hell of it. The chaos of the ensuing brawl allowed Flamewar and Virus to slip by virtually unnoticed.

Sated vengeance thrummed through their sparks hotly, making them feel alive, accomplished.

Without the use of her lower jaw, Virus could only grunt and jerk her head in the direction of the _Darksyde_.

_Time to go._

Flamewar nodded, pausing only long enough to look back as her once-haven fell amongst the chaos she helped start. The sight was invigorating.

Even if she had sold her spark into service in order to make this happen, she'd never felt more… _free_.


End file.
